


Full of Surprises

by Limpet666



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, M/M, Threats of Violence, aggressive intimacy, implied sex, s3 ep 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limpet666/pseuds/Limpet666
Summary: Jim is sick of always being the one to back down, so this time he's standing his ground.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I never meant to ship this ship, and yet here we are.

“It’s been really nice knowing you. You’re a good egg.”

It was probably the weirdest conversation Jim had been part of for some time, and given his usual activities, that was saying something. It was also something he was in no mood for right now.

“Also, nice shot on Mario.” Zsasz stepped forward, his dark expression fully cognizant of the knife his words were twisting in Jim’s gut. “Never liked him.”

If he hadn’t had a clear head on his shoulders, Jim would have shot Zsasz there and then; dealt with the repercussions, and saved himself a headache later.

But whilst Zsasz was the best assassin out there, there _were_ plenty of others.

This was Gotham, after all. They were listed under ‘A’ in the phonebook.

And Jim had always preferred the devil you know.

Zsasz was leaning in close, and Jim knew it was expected of him to pull back; to show submission to the assassin and surrender his space. Like usual. Don’t mess with those that were willing to bloody their hands more than you.

But Jim was tired of it. He was sick of the threats, the intimidation, the arrogant surety of everyone around him that he was going to play the rules.

The sheer audacity that Victor Zsasz – a wanted criminal of the worst kind – would stand in his home, drinking his milk, _from the bottle_ , and then demand that he relinquish his personal space.

_In his own home. After everything._

Jim had had enough.

So he stood his ground, staring back at Zsasz as he got closer and closer, daring him to force the issue with a grim scowl.

To his credit, Zsasz’s eyes narrowed considerately when he realised Jim obviously wasn’t going to move. Their noses were inches apart, and there was a tense silence that pulsed loudly against the backdrop of traffic noises outside.  

Jim was not going to move, that much was clear.

So Zsasz kissed him.

Jim would be lying through his teeth if he said he was expecting it. He had been anticipating either a punch to gut for his attitude, or for Zsasz to shove past him on his way out.

But whilst the kiss was an unwelcome surprise, Jim knew exactly what Zsasz was playing at; he was counting on Jim to pull away in offence, and incidentally give the ground Zsasz was demanding.

But two could play at that game.

And Jim wasn’t going to be the one to back down this time.

The kiss was far from romantic. Simple, pure aggression and dominance on both sides as Jim put his hands to Zsasz’s face to hold him there, and Zsasz fisted his hands in Jim’s shirt. Jim was sure to slide his fingertips hard over the still bruised skin where he had pistol whipped Zsasz only days before and knocked him unconscious on the couch.

The growl of pain the hitman rumbled into his mouth was worth the way his hands were clenched so tight in Jim’s shirt he was practically pulling him off his feet.

With neither willing to submit, things escalated quickly, teeth clashing and the taste of dairy still in Zsasz’s mouth.  

As Zsasz purposefully tore Jim’s shirt open, scattering buttons, Jim used his grip on Zsasz’s head to abruptly turn them, slamming the other man hard up against the wall.

It was that movement that finally broke them apart, both breathing harsh and heavy, a touch of a growl in Jim’s, whilst Zsasz only grinned.

Like it was a game and he was having fun.

Which, according to how their bodies were responding to the violent intimacy, they both clearly were.

And in the dark parts of his mind, the fierce and feral bits that had lead him to stand his ground in the first place, Jim wanted this. He wanted some sort of satisfaction. He deserved a release from the current nightmare he found himself in. Even if just for a short, ill-conceived moment.

And if Victor Zsasz was willing to match him move for move, then all the more convenient for Jim.

“You know you never cease to surprise me, Jim.” Zsasz said with amusement, fingers vice-like in the fabric of Jim’s shirt, his thigh pressing forward between the other man’s legs, “Usually I don’t like surprises but–”

“Would you _shut up_?”

This time he kissed Zsasz just to make him stop talking.

—

Afterwards, Zsasz didn’t stick around.

“This was fun,” he commented cheerfully as he buttoned up his shirt under the watchful glare of Jim. Who was already regretting every decision in his life that had led to the point where Victor Zsasz had just climbed out of his bed.

Especially the part where Jim agreed with him. It had been fun. Dangerous and different and everything Jim had needed to get out of his system.

“I hope I don’t see you soon, Jim,” Zsasz continued as he buckled up his gun holsters before shrugging on his jacket.

“But we both know that’s probably not going to happen.” The mock sad tone in Zsasz’s voice made Jim snort in disgust and finally turn his back on him. He trusted him to find his own way to the door.

“Get out, Victor.”

—

Jim had had just enough time to push Harvey into cover before the bullets started flying.

“What the–?!”

“It’s Victor Zsasz,” Jim bit out, peering out from behind their cover briefly to try and get a mark on his location. He had been hoping for _a bit_ more time before the hit on him was official. It had barely been a few hours since he had last seen Zsasz.

“Hey Jim don’t take this personal. A job’s a job.” Zsasz’s voice came calm and cheerful down the alley. Somewhere elevated, probably the fire escape at the end.

He was using some sort of semi-automatic, probably with a scope. He clearly meant business and that didn’t bode well for Jim.

“I don’t know, Victor,” Jim shouted back from around his precarious cover, trying to stall, “I think I preferred the last ‘job’ we had together.”

“Oh I didn’t need to know that,” Harvey groaned next to him, and Jim could only flash him a half-apologetic grin for that mental image before they were backing out of the way of bullets again.

He had told Harvey, of course. Well it was more accurate to say Harvey half guessed a bunch of stuff about his few hours absence, and expressed his disapproval, and Jim put him out of his misery by filling in the blanks.

Which Harvey had approved off even less.

‘ _Arkham-worthy batshit insane_ ’ had been his phrase of choice

“Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental on me, Jim,” Zsasz called back, and Jim could hear the clip of heels on the stairs that told him Zsasz’s accomplices were making their way down.

“Nah!” Check the magazine, check the safety; this was going to be a gun’s blazing sort of showdown, “Honestly Victor, you weren’t that good.”

Harvey groaned again, hands to his ears like he could unhear it.

The silence, then the burst of bullets that followed, told Jim there had been some offence taken at his words. Even if they had been a lie.

And it was satisfying to get a dig in. Zsasz was trying to kill him, after all.

Even if Jim knew he would have to buy Harvey a beer to apologise later. Or three or four.

If he survived, that was.


End file.
